Column: Journey

icy-frantz

By Icy Frantz

have never driven across the United States, but I am intrigued by the idea. I imagine myself behind the wheel or preferably in the passenger seat (I am a bad driver), leaving behind the familiar New England terrain and heading west, taking in towns and cities about which I have only read, Detroit, Lincoln, and Palm Springs, and feeling the vastness of our extraordinary country. I imagine waking up to a sunrise near the Rockies, eating in greasy spoon diners and sleeping in cheap motels, vacancy signs flickering, and eventually arriving at the Pacific Ocean, dramatically and victoriously dipping my toe in the water.

When I think of this journey, I close my eyes and see open roads and hear good music, volume turned up high. What I don’t picture are the inevitable bumpy roads and flat tires. I don’t picture myself getting lost, bored or frustrated. Yet, no journey is complete without both: coasting through the sweet spots as well as bumping into the potholes and detours.

Share it.

Today Show host Hoda Kolb tells a story about a stranger she met on an airplane who encouraged her to share her battle with breast cancer. He told her, “Don’t hog your journey. It’s not just for you.” We need to share our journey, all of it, not just the good stuff. I am constantly reminded, though my writing, that we connect with others though vulnerability. (Don’t we all just hate the Mom with the perfect kids?) And, I know that my journey is a lot richer because of these connections. Self-help groups are born on this premise. We listen a little more closely to someone with whom we have a shared experience, one alcoholic to another, one parent of a special needs child to another, one breast cancer survivor to another. We share practical ideas and solutions, the names of doctors and specialists, and feelings. I have been the beneficiary of this kind of guidance and I am grateful.  If we can make another’s road a little bit easier than maybe it has all been worth it.

The setbacks in our journey may lead to something better.

I like to say, “There is no such thing as a straight line.” In fact, it’s true that straight lines are mathematical abstractions that do not exist in reality. I said it first when I took time off from college, and I say it when I hear others are doing the same. I say it about any setback or deviation from what we think is our journey. We don’t live life in a straight line. Life is full of curves and up hills and down hills and interruptions. Straight lines are boring.

When I worked at a high school, I remember a student who was excited to learn of her acceptance into an Ivy League school. She was a field hockey star and planned to play in college. But when a major injury prevented her from playing, she quickly learned that lines are not straight. She used the time that would have been spent on the field, learning a foreign language. Now she lives abroad, running a nonprofit that helps young girls in serious need of help. She is making a difference, one that may not have been possible had she not experienced her injury. I recall another student who was expected to play football in college, but, again, an injury prevented this from happening. He spent his extra time pursuing another passion, music, and today he fills auditoriums and stadiums with fans who come to hear him play. This setback opened a new door that may never have opened.

The bumps make us the people we are meant to be.

Recently, I asked a friend of mine how she was, and her response was, “Everything is perfect. It’s the way it is meant to be.” At the time, I was in the midst of a rough spot, and her words were difficult to hear.  I was having difficulty making sense of my own personal setback. But, the gift of time often gives me perspective and eventually I could see that this friend of mine was right, everything is perfect, and any set back or detour is just the way it is supposed to be. It all makes sense. But occasionally, we can make no sense of the challenge or disappointment and it does not feel perfect. It just does not.

I cherish the friendship I have with a woman who was born with a chronic and sometimes painful disease. She has withstood countless surgeries and yet, I have never heard her complain. She embraces her journey in a way that is nothing short of inspirational. When asked if she wished she was born without this disability, her answer is a little surprising.

“It has made me who I am. I am more compassionate, more understanding and more willing to help people. I would have it no other way.” And I will add to that. It has made her wise and funny and honest and real. Sometimes we are born with a few bumps and they are what make us shine.

A few years ago, our eldest son applied early to his first-choice college and was not admitted. At the time, the rejection felt like a big bump, a painful disappointment. And yet, he accepted the news and moved forward.  Over his December break, he went to visit a friend at a college that had not been on his official college list. He loved it. He loved the students. He applied and, ultimately, was accepted and enrolled. Now in the spring of his Junior year, it has been a home run (he is baseball player). He has found success in the classroom and has made some lifelong friends. He has been introduced to new interests and has been recognized by the institution in some wonderful ways. Opportunities have presented themselves that most likely would not have been possible had he gone to his first-choice school.  While it may not be what he originally envisioned as his college journey, it may just be a little bit better and the bump he encountered in the college acceptance process made it all possible.

Enjoy it.

It’s the journey, not the destination.  I have heard these words too many times to count. It’s hard to keep the focus off of that end game, the degree, the championship round, the marriage, the Pacific. It’s natural to look ahead. And like a child in the back seat of the car at the start of a road trip, you want to scream, “Are we there yet? How much longer?” We get ahead of ourselves. We forget to look out the window at the passing scenery. We forget to talk to our sibling sitting beside us. I used to play a game with my older sister when we were on long car rides. We would stop for ice cream, and then the game commenced. Who could make the ice cream last the longest? We were strategic, often hiding the dwindling remains somewhere within the interior of the car and presenting it only when we were sure that it was the only remnant of ice cream left.  The one whose ice cream lasted the longest won, and, yet, eventually we were both left with sticky hands and a slightly annoyed driver. So, let it last because before you know it, it’s over. And we wish we could live it again and we wonder why we felt impatient. Why we complained. Time has a way of speeding up and, looking back, we are left with the memories of how great it was, bumps, sticky fingers, and all.

I know, it’s a bit cliché to say life is a journey. And it is both: a cliché and a journey. It’s wonderful and hard and funny and mysterious. There are potholes out there. When my husband drives he has a way of carefully maneuvering around then and I tend to hit them straight on, causing a rather bumpy ride. However we go about it, there is value in every step and every mile of our journey. Author Joseph Campbell says, “Opportunities to find deeper powers within ourselves, come when life seems most challenging,” and it’s these challenges, detours, potholes, bumps and disappointments that help us grow. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to miss any of it. I don’t want to miss the chance to enjoy the open road, and I don’t want to miss the opportunity to develop my deeper power. One day, behind the wheel of a car or in the passenger seat, I am going to get there donning my superhero cape, and I am going to dip my toe in the Pacific and shout, “I made it!”

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